


we're not out of the tunnel (i bet you though there's an end)

by johnllauren



Series: hetalia rarepair week 2020 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: Alfred’s hands are curled around his mug in a futile attempt to extract whatever warmth is left from the tea he’s been holding for hours now without taking a sip. “It’s going to storm tonight.” He says.Toris nods. “I heard.”It's been a long day.
Relationships: America/Lithuania (Hetalia)
Series: hetalia rarepair week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786603
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	we're not out of the tunnel (i bet you though there's an end)

**Author's Note:**

> for day 2 of rarepair week! prompt: thunderstorms :)  
> I don't think this needs to be said but this is a vent fic about mental illness and not meant to reference any current events, bc that would be gross  
> title from mitski's "I will" !

Alfred’s hands are curled around his mug in a futile attempt to extract whatever warmth is left from the tea he’s been holding for hours now without taking a sip. “It’s going to storm tonight.” He says. 

Toris nods. “I heard.” 

They watch the sunset through the window, though the storm clouds make it more of a gradual fade from dark blue to black. The world feels heavy around them, and Alfred feels it in his chest, weighing him down. 

It’s been a long day.

That is to say, it’s been a fairly normal day, but there are days that can only be described as heavy. Days when he is afraid of closing his eyes, even blinking, because his brain seems hellbent on replaying a highlight reel of the worst moments he’s ever experienced.

Alfred has done most of his work for the day - at least, he’s done enough assignments with minimal effort put into them that no one will ask questions. The rest of the day is spent walking through the house, as if that would fix anything, or staring at the wall, or talking to Toris. 

Toris understands. Alfred feels bad that Toris had to see him like this on one of their rare visits, but Toris has experience with bad days. Toris knows what to say, helps rescue Alfred when he feels like he’s going to drown in his own thoughts, is there to kiss his forehead and look at him with soft, loving eyes, reminding him that he is someone capable of love, of being loved. 

It means more to Alfred than he’s able to admit, but he thinks Toris knows. 

The room is silent, save for the sound of Toris tapping away at his computer (he never quite learned how to type quietly). It’s a reminder that even though Toris is here now and things seem normal like this, they’re still _countries_ , they’ve still got jobs and responsibilities and soon enough Toris will be back home, thousands of miles and seven hours of time difference away. It makes Alfred feel even more like he’s squandering this, wasting the precious time he has with Toris by letting his head fuck up the better part of a day. 

Toris, of course, tries not to let him believe this, tries to tell him that he’s happy to spend time with Alfred no matter what, that Alfred can’t control his brain anyway. 

Toris yawns when the clock nears midnight. He’s long since abandoned his laptop in favor of his phone. The two of them are relatively squeezed into an armchair, though neither mind: it means they get to cuddle, Toris’s head resting on Alfred’s chest, rising and falling with the other’s breathing. 

“Go to sleep,” Alfred says, his lips brushing Toris’s forehead. 

“What about you?” Toris asks, his voice betraying the concern he’s felt all day. 

Alfred shifts to kiss Toris’s forehead. “I’ll be there in a bit. ‘M not tired yet.”

“Okay,” Toris says, but they both know he isn’t telling the truth. Still, Toris heads to their bed to leave him alone after a few kisses and worried sentiments. 

Alfred sighs, once again left alone with his own thoughts, and covers his face with his hands. 

He doesn’t know how many hours pass before he hears noise coming from their room, but the noise drags Alfred back into awareness and he slowly realizes it’s raining - no, storming. Footsteps make their way closer, and then Toris is standing in the doorway, looking even smaller than usual, shrinking in on himself. 

Alfred looks up at him in surprise, and he can’t even ask if Toris is okay before Toris says, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“C’mere,” Alfred says, opening his arms. 

Toris obliges, clambering into the armchair and more or less folding himself into Alfred’s arms. Alfred wraps his arms around him, holds Toris close, and listens to the sound of his breathing, still irregular from anxiety. “I’m sorry,” Toris says against his chest.

Alfred shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

Outside, thunder booms again, and both of them flinch. Toris curls into himself, latching onto Alfred’s shirt. And for a moment it isn’t thunder, it’s _bullets,_ and Alfred can’t shake the thought that he is going to die - worse, he is going to lose, he is going to lose Toris and Francis and the entire goddamn war, isn’t he, he’s just going to fuck it all up- 

When America comes back to the present, Toris’s hand is on his jaw, his thumb cautiously stroking Alfred’s cheek. America realizes, belatedly, that he’s tensed around Toris, trying to shield him from a blow that isn’t coming. 

“Alfred?” Toris is asking, his voice soft and gentle and warm. 

“Fuck,” Alfred exhales. “Sorry,” he says, relaxing his grip on Toris and grimacing. 

“It’s alright,” Toris says, reaching up to card his hand through Alfred’s hair. “‘S not your fault.” 

America nods. He doesn’t trust his voice. 

“We’re safe now,” Toris says, and he still says it like it’s a fucking commodity, like he’s lucky to not exist in fear. 

“I know.” it comes out strangled, rough. “Thank you.”

Toris offers him a smile and shifts so he’s properly facing Alfred, still sitting in his lap. Alfred doesn’t stop holding him close and leans forward so their foreheads touch. It thunders again, and they both start, knocking heads. Despite everything, Toris laughs. 

“D’you wanna lie down in the bed?” Toris asks, but he’s looking at Alfred with those eyes that tell him _you aren’t fooling anyone, come lie down and get some rest,_ so Alfred nods. 

They’re both shaky on their feet, and it hurts Alfred that he isn’t able to reach out and steady Toris the way he normally does, the way he’s supposed to. But Toris doesn’t seem to notice - instead, he reaches forward and holds Alfred’s hand, gives it a squeeze. Alfred squeezes back. 

Their bed is unmade, which isn’t abnormal, but the way the blankets are twisted and the pillows have been flung around it make it painfully clear to Alfred that Toris wasn’t having an easy time sleeping. But Toris either doesn’t notice or pretends not to as he sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his eyes. Alfred sits next to him and wraps an arm around his waist, both to comfort Toris and to remind himself that Toris is here, Toris is safe and so is he. 

Thunder cracks again and they both flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” Alfred says. 

Toris shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s not your job to be the hero all the time, you know,” he says, reaching forward and cupping Alfred’s jaw, stroking Alfred’s cheek with his thumb. Alfred leans into the touch. 

Alfred opens his mouth to object, but lightning strikes loudly and he jumps. 

“Let’s lie down, okay?” Toris asks. His eyes are soft, understanding, even now, and Alfred cannot find it in himself to disobey. 

Alfred reaches for the remote to turn on the television for some background noise that isn’t thunder and lightning. 

“Preference?” he asks Toris, his lips brushing the other’s forehead.

Toris shakes his head. “Just not an infomercial,” he says, which makes Alfred laugh. They flip through a few channels until they find some mindless old movie they’ve seen a few times before. 

Alfred kisses him, soft and gentle and caring, places a hand on the back of Toris’s neck like Toris is the only thing still tethering him to the earth. Toris kisses back, practically melting into Alfred, and it feels like they are the only two people in the world. When it thunders again, they both start, but don’t break away. Alfred just holds Toris tighter.

“I love you,” Toris says. 

And it doesn’t fix everything, it doesn’t stop the thundering outside or the storm in Alfred’s mind or the way Toris is always going to be afraid of loud noises. But it does remind the two of them that they are loved, they are loved, they are loved. When it thunders, they hold each other closer, and the lights stay on because they both feel safer that way. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: lafayettesass  
> (& remember to take care of yourself. sometimes everything feels wrong and it can be hard to feel normal again, especially right now. but whatever happens, we will get through it. also the entire hurt/comfort tag is a very blessed place. anyway stay safe and stay protesting.) :)


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